


And To All A Goodnight

by Mozzarella



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Catharsis, Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Holiday Fic Exchange, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 21:12:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17169479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mozzarella/pseuds/Mozzarella
Summary: In which Connor goes all out for his first Christmas and Hank has feelings.





	And To All A Goodnight

**Author's Note:**

> For Charlie (readitson on Tumblr)! I hope the fluff makes up for the slight bit of sads :'(  
> HAPPY HOLIDAYS! 
> 
> Referenced character death is that of Cole Anderson.

It had become something of a mission for him after learning Hank hadn’t decorated his house for Christmas in the years following Cole’s passing.

Grief was a complex thing, but the house had become much cleaner since Connor moved in, and Hank seemed less beaten down (though no less dry and biting in the way he spoke to most of the people he knew), and with probabilities running in his head, Connor brought the idea up midway through November.

At the time, Hank had insisted Connor experience a decent enough Thanksgiving gathering with Markus’ crew in Carl Manfred’s home, and Connor had made Hank flush with embarrassment when he said he wished to experience Thanksgiving with “loved ones”, as he’d been told, and that meant Hank, and Sumo, and the shared comfort of their home.  

The day he was able to break Hank’s resolve on his strict no-Christmas-decorations rule was the day he’d hung up a few bits and bobs, Hank had come for him with a vengeance, only to be waylaid when Connor caught him under the mistletoe and kissed him free of his wits.

After that, Connor had free reign to put up what he wanted, with no more than a few grumbled protests from Hank. The only thing he wouldn’t budge on, however, was the absent tree—something Connor had been looking forward to decorating. The way Hank had asked him, though… well, Connor didn’t push, and he had the rest of the house to play with, either way.

The lights Connor had chosen were the warmest white he could find interspersed with slow pulsing cool white, almost blue in the darkness. When Hank had come out the one night to see Connor’s handiwork, he’d looked between the pulsing blue-white lights and Connor’s blue LED and wrapped a great hand around the back of Connor’s neck, pulling him in for a firm, one-armed hug, and kissing him where his hairline met his ear, pulling a sweet blue blush from his pale cheeks.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Hank had whispered in his ear, words so deep and warm that they came out a growl, making Connor turn his head to bury his face into Hank’s neck, just feeling the vibrations of Hank’s subsequent hum of pleasure and approval.

“I do my best,” Connor said, smiling dopily into Hank’s collar.

-

Every now and then, Connor would look at the beautifully if eclectically decorated tree at the station and wonder about Hank’s hard line refusal, but he’d replay the scene in his head of when Hank asked him, softly and defeatedly, to leave off the tree, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask again.

Hank had warmed to the rest of Connor’s efforts—which involved a lot of catalogue-worthy mixing and matching of décor that Connor had wholeheartedly thrown himself into, splurging on Christmas décor like he’d done for nothing else, as a working android who had no need for food but had a comfortable income nonetheless.

He warmed even more so to Connor’s cooking, when he made what the internet claimed to be traditional Christmas fare, one new recipe for every day of December, even branching out to other countries’ traditional Christmas food. Every single dessert and meal had been a rousing success, with the exception of the gingerbread men that Connor had asked Hank to help him decorate. Hank had closed off in the way Connor could track with memorized efficiency, telling Connor gruffly to enjoy it without him, but coming back later after a few hours of radio silence to chuckle warmly at the gingerbread men Connor had decorated to look like their friends. He bit the head off of Gingerbread Reed and claimed it a success, and the cold reception of earlier seemed to disappear.

Connor saved four Gingerbread figures wrapped in foil and hidden away in the fridge, not knowing how Hank would react, wondering to himself when he’d actually find the courage to show them to his beloved partner without ruining this tentative, sweet thing they had been growing between them since the beginning.  

About a week and a half before Christmas eve, Connor was surprised when Hank left the house but not to work, telling Connor he’d be back before the evening but giving him no more information than that. It was a surprise, Connor realized, but he had no idea what it could be until he heard the sound of Hank’s too-old car pulling up to the driveway, and he looked out the window to find—

A tree.

A mid-size evergreen conifer, some kind of genetically enhanced spruce that was grown specifically for the purpose of placing in someone’s suburban home, was strapped to the roof of Hank’s car, wind-blown but whole, and absolutely, utterly perfect.

Connor was so overwhelmed by emotion that he didn’t realize how quickly he’d booked it from the door to Hank’s side, kissing him breathless enough and deep enough to tip him halfway over, holding him in a dip as if they were in a romance film.

“Hey, hey! Let me up, you crazy robot,” Hank yelped when Connor finally let him breathe, but he was nothing but warm when he ran his thumbs along Connor’s ears like he was a cat and kissed his forehead, the scratchiness of his untrimmed chin making Connor purr just like one.

“I didn’t think…” Connor began softly, looking up at the tree in wonder. “You said you didn’t want a tree.”

“It’s not…. Connor, you know me. You know I have… hang-ups. I mean, understatement of the century, but my bullshit doesn’t reflect on you. I can’t believe I almost ruined your first Christmas with it,” Hank said.

“You didn’t,” Connor assured. He reached out, gently running his fingers over the leaves, before hoisting the entire tree onto his shoulder like it weighed nothing, with Hank giving him the head-shake of the long-suffering.

“I just…” Hank began, uncertainly. “Cole. He loved the holidays.”

“Oh Hank—”

“Whatever you want to say, I’m sure someone’s already told me,” Hank said gruffly. “But I just wanted you to know… It’s not on you. Someone’s first Christmas is… special. And having someone I care about, someone I love,” Hank said, pausing on the word and looking at Connor significantly, “with me now? I don’t have any excuses to wallow in self-pity. Because I know that’s what it is. It isn’t grief—it hasn’t been grief in a long time. Cole’s gone and I haven’t been able to really let that sink in until you started making Christmas something worthwhile again.”

Even with an entire tree balanced on his shoulder, Connor couldn’t help but pull Hank in for a one-armed hug. “Thank you for saying that, Hank. Right now I’m looking through five thousand possible responses, appropriate or otherwise, to what you’ve told me, but the truth is I don’t think there are any words for how… how much it means to me.”

“Then let’s not stand on any ceremony, huh? Come on. Let’s get this tree up in the living room and figure out a way to keep Sumo from peeing on it.”

“How did you manage it before?” Connor asked.

“Used to have a smart Roomba the dumb mutt was scared of, so we had it cycle around the base of the tree cleaning so he wouldn’t come near. Threw that out a long time ago, so we might have to think of a different way to get the job done.”

They eventually ended up buying a Roomba for dirt cheap, with a rudimentary AI that was almost like that of a pet, cooing and chirping whenever Connor gave it a few pats on its smooth top.

It seemed twice as pleased when Connor affixed a festive green giftwrap bow on top of its head, and it merrily chirped its way around the newly decorated tree in tune to old Christmas songs, while Hank looked on in bemusement.

-

“There’s something I wanted to show you,” Connor said the night of, when they were cuddled together on the couch with the TV playing a Christmas Eve livestream from the Manfred home, with Markus and Carl celebrating with android and human alike. Hank had been shocked to see Elijah Kamski as one of the guests, moving around in the background with a Chloe on each arm, until Connor reminded him that it had been Kamski who had gifted Markus to Carl as an early prototype of the RK series.

Connor had found the most garish ugly sweater he could get his hands on, with bells all over the front that jingled obnoxiously whenever he moved, and Hank had given him the stink eye when he purposefully made his strides less smooth in order to maximize the noise. Still, Hank had embraced the ugly sweater concept with a wholly unironic millennial attitude, wearing a soft gray thing with the ugliest Rudolph face ever to be drawn on the front, complete with a light-up LED nose.

“What’s up?” Hank asked, sipping the perfectly mixed cinnamon and clove hot chocolate Connor had given him. Sumo lay at their feet, rumbling contentedly even as he eyed the Roomba humming Deck The Halls a little ways away.

“I made you these when I was making gingerbread men, but I wasn’t sure if I should show it to you,” Connor continued, lifting a covered plate onto his lap.

“Well now I’m interested. Come on,” Hank said. Connor handed the plate over, and Hank uncovered the ridiculously festive thing, looking down at the three gingerbread people and one gingerbread dog settled happily on its surface.

“I know you miss him,” Connor said uncertainly after some seconds passed in silence. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was think—”

“Shut up,” Hank said. “It’s perfect,” he added after a moment, pulling Connor closer to his side.

There, on the plate, were perfect gingerbread figures of Hank and Connor, bracketing a tiny child that couldn’t be mistaken for anyone other than Cole. Sumo, set as a rounded shape, sat with his frosting tongue out at Gingerbread Connor’s side.

“I wish I could have met him,” Connor said softly, without thought.

“He would’ve loved you,” Hank said, his voice shaking.

Their first Christmas Eve together was perfect, even as Connor held Hank through his sobs, with the two of them pulling Sumo up onto their laps when he had finally cried his cathartic tears.

“I love you, Connor,” Hank murmured, exhausted, as he rested his head against Connor’s shoulder. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Connor said softly. “More than anything.”

And as Hank drifted off, drained from the overwhelming feelings he finally allowed himself to experience, Connor pressed his nose into Hank’s downy gray hair, whispering “Merry Christmas, Hank Anderson,” softly into his ear.

 


End file.
